a dream is a wish your heart makes
by hermionesmydawg
Summary: AU; Marty Deeks and Kensi Blye meet under very different, and much more fun, circumstances. One-shot.


Happy season 6 premiere day! I wonder if Sam and Callen are going to make it out of that sub (haha).

Meanwhile, this is completely AU. Something fluffy and completely lacking in angst for my darling Tat's birthday. :)

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><p>Marty Deeks nodded his head, pretending to be fascinated by the extravagant tale being told to him by the pretty blonde girl named...Tandy? Tannie? Tammy? He honestly couldn't remember, nor did he really care to. At this point in the conversation, he was just being polite and listening to how hard it was to break into acting. Yeah, acting, that must be super hard. He wanted to tell her she should try acting like a drug dealer, pushing coke to kids. That was hard.<p>

Excusing himself with an apology, he headed towards the bar for a beer. It was hard to find a hot and interesting girl to chat with in this city anymore. Most of the women he had met that night were pretty but boring. He was having trouble controlling the conversations, especially in a place where he couldn't disguise himself as somebody else for once. As he mingled through the ballroom of the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel, he contemplated just skipping out on the remainder of the wedding reception in favor of watching the rest of the Southern Cal/Oregon State football game. He hated both teams and would love to watch either one of them lose. Who the hell schedules a wedding during football season anyway?

As he was about to hunt down the bride and groom to give them his best wishes, an anomaly amongst the crowd caught his attention. Sitting at a table by herself was a smoking hot brunette with a bored, if not sour, expression on her face. Looking like some sort of exotic princess in her short black dress with spaghetti straps and low-cut neckline, she was definitely way out of his league. But he always enjoyed a challenge, even if she did look like she thought she was better than everyone else in the room.

With a quick smooth of his clothes (a dashing white shirt, chinos, and a vest that only he could get away with) and a ruffle of his messy blond hair, Marty decided to take a chance and approach the beautiful dark-haired oddity. The closer he got, the more intrigued he became. For one thing, she had a beer instead of a cosmopolitan. Secondly, she had kicked her high heels off and shoved them under the table. He liked her already.

Before he even had a chance to say hello, she spoke without glancing over to him. "Not interested."

Hmm, he was starting to like her less already. "Not interested in...what, exactly?"

She turned her head and paused, eyeing him up and down with a curious look on her face. Raising her eyes to his, she gave him her best steely glare even though she was obviously appreciating the view. "Whatever sad story you use to pick up chicks at weddings. I've heard them all tonight, from lost loves to dead puppies, so-"

"Wait, hold up," Marty interrupted. "Someone actually tried to hit on you with a dead dog story?"

"I, uh...yes," she stammered.

"Lame," he drawled. This might be more challenging than he anticipated. Maybe he should just take a different approach with her. Romance would likely never be in the cards for them, but he was just too fascinated by her to walk away. "For the record, my dog is still alive and I'm not interested in talking about any of my long lost loves that may or may not exist."

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she slowly pulled the chair beside her away from the table. "So, you're not hitting on me then?"

"Don't flatter yourself, princess." He sat down with a smirk. "I was just looking for someone to have an intelligent conversation with, but who knows, I may have misjudged you."

Apparently she didn't like being called 'princess', because a mean scowl now covered her pretty face. "An intelligent conversation, with you? About what exactly, the physics of surfing?"

"Actually, USC did a study on that. Very interesting."

His deadpan expression almost made her want to laugh, but she rolled her eyes and shook her head instead. "Wow, you're actually serious."

A little cheer sounded in Marty's head, because he was figuring out how easy it would be to get under her skin. This wedding was becoming more and more fun by the minute. "Sorry," he apologized dramatically. "I didn't realize this table was reserved for Mensa members only."

"I could be a member of Mensa," she retorted.

"I'm sure you could."

"I graduated from Cornell."

"Fancy." He pointed his thumb at his chest. "UCLA."

She shrugged. "That's not too bad, I guess."

"And Pepperdine. Law." Was he really attempting to one-up this person that he just met? Absolutely.

"Ew, really?" Tilting her head, she stared at his face and hair. "You don't look like a lawyer."

Inwardly, he groaned. Even when he was actively practicing law, he could never get taken seriously until he verbally dropped someone down a few pegs. "Hmm. Well, you don't look like a-"

"None of your business."

Leaning closer to her, Marty looked at her hands closely, paying attention to all of the details (including a lack of wedding ring set). "Looks like you're not a trophy wife. Your nails are short and your hands look pretty rough, so I'm going to guess either lumberjack or unemployed DIYer."

"Not even close," she responded sourly.

With a chuckle and a snort, he shook his head. "I think I've figured out why you were sitting alone."

"Yeah, and you can't take a hint."

He might have been offended if it weren't for the glint in her, as he now realized, very striking eyes. She wasn't easy to read, but he was pretty sure she was enjoying their unfriendly banter as much as he was. Nothing she could say would make him want to walk away from her at this moment. "Oh, I can take a hint and run to the other side of the country with it. And if I were trying to hit on you right now, I'd probably wish you well and move on, but honestly I find your aloofness pretty entertaining."

The enjoyment was definitely two-sided. "I don't believe you for a second, but nice recovery."

"Trust me," Marty said, thrusting his chest out proudly. "If I came over here to pick you up, not only would you know about, I would have been successful."

A skeptical smile spread across her face. "In picking _me_ up?"

He looked down at his watch. "Oh yeah, we'd probably be halfway back to my place right now."

"Whatever," she said with yet another eye roll and head shake. That seemed to be a thing of hers, and it was definitely cute.

"So, just curious. Are you always this surly or is it just my sparkling personality?"

Her nostrils flared slightly. "I hate weddings."

"Really?" She grunted in response to him. "How can you hate weddings, it's like the ultimate proclamation of love. Swearing to be there for each other through the laughter and the farts and tears and pain. Till death do you part, whenever that may be."

Finally, she twisted in her chair to face him head on. "Do you really believe in all of that?"

"In theory, it sounds wonderful."

Then she laughed, a loud ha ha that was just a little bit condescending. "So, no."

Now it was Marty's turn to roll his eyes. Why was he talking to this woman again? Oh yeah, smoking hot, smart, with an intriguing icy exterior that could see starting to melt with each passing second. "Alright. If you hate weddings so much, why are you here?"

"Childhood friend of the bride. You?"

"I like to mack on hot bridesmaids." His quick reflexes were the only thing that kept him from getting kicked in the leg. "Kidding. School friend of the groom. We were in a band together."

Stifling another dramatic laugh, she bit down on her bottom lip. "Oh God, you're not going to start singing now are you?"

"Have any special requests?"

"Yes, the Sounds of Silence," she quipped.

"I don't know if Simon and Garfunkel is really in my wheelhouse, but I could give it a try," he replied quickly, not willing to back down. She groaned. "Fine, but it's your loss."

Finishing off her beer, she set the bottle on the table and pushed it towards the center before crossing her arms. The pair continued to size each other up in silence while the DJ asked for song requests. Most of the requests were pop hits from the 80s and 90s, a far cry from the original grunge songs he played in his band, Touching Wood, as a teenager. "Hard to imagine Kurt in a band," she mused, nodding towards the bride and groom.

Marty took a swig of his beer, wondering if she could read his mind. "Times change, people change. The Marine Corp has been a good life choice for him."

"Well, Emily does love her military men."

"Not you?"

"I have the utmost respect for the men and women that serve our country," she said stoically. With that statement, she visibly stiffened and regained a touch of the ice back on her exterior. A sore subject possibly, so he decided to ignore his nagging curiosity and leave it alone. Subject change needed.

"It uh, looks like they're about to throw the bouquet." He pointed to the crowd gathering. "You want in on that action?"

"Hell no."

"You're an interesting lady, Miss..." She looked at him as if she didn't know whether to answer truthfully or if she should come up with an elaborate stage name. "You realize if you lie I'll just find out after the fact and have my confirmation that you're likely a sociopath."

There wasn't much point in either one of them lying, so she relented. "Blye. Kensi Blye."

"When you say it like that, it makes you sound a bit like a secret agent," he joked. Kensi raised an eyebrow, waiting for his introduction as well. "Okay then. The name's Deeks, Marty Deeks. Somehow it doesn't sound as secret agent-like as Blye, Kensi Blye."

"Nice to meet you, Deeks Marty Deeks."

"Likewise."

Marty wasn't too keen on spilling that many more details of his life (his real name was already more information than usual), so he pointed to a young woman standing with a considerably older man. "What do you think, daddy or sugar daddy?"

Kensi snickered. "Is this really a game?"

"Oh yeah. It's a lot harder than real or fake, cause ya know, this is LA."

"Uh huh. Well, she is standing a comfortable distance away from him and she keeps drooling over the bartender...but, he is busy drooling over her. I'll say sugar daddy."

"Impressive. I agree. Be right back." He stood up and walked briskly over to the bar, leaning against it while ordering two beers. As quickly as he could, he snuck a look back at Kensi and had to hide his smug smile. Oh yeah, she was definitely checking him out. Awesome. "Thanks," he said to the bartender, dropping a few bills into the tip jar before grabbing the beers and walking back to the table. "Here you go. Drinks on me."

She took a sip of her beer. "It's an open bar."

"Can't get anything past you." They shared a smile and Kensi pointed to another couple, continuing their game. Surprisingly they were in agreement for almost every couple until they started arguing over the same blonde girl (Tara?) he had been talking to before he wandered over to Kensi. Of course he didn't mention he'd spent 20 minutes earlier avoiding whatshername's advances.

"I'm telling you, sugar daddy."

"And I'm saying no way," Marty argued. "Daddy, all the way. I just know these things."

Kensi slipped her heels on and stood up proudly. "We'll see." Sashaying the distance between their table and the couple, she approached the man and put a hand on his arm, stroking his bicep. Marty crossed his arms over his chest, watching as the man smiled, obviously flattered, and pointed to the blonde woman. Kensi nodded and turned back towards him, winking obnoxiously on her way back to him.

"Really?"

"Told you," she gloated, hands on her hips.

He curled his lips. "I feel kinda cheap now."

"Why?"

"Nothing. It's nothing."

"Hmm." Blowing a puff of air out of her mouth, Kensi tapped her foot and looked back and forth between the dance floor and the building's exit. Unbeknownst to Marty, usually she would be dying to escape to the comfort of her couch and yoga pants at this point. But she thought he was cute and a little bit funny and a lot different from most of the guys she usually met. So, she decisively extended a hand to him. "Do you dance, Marty?"

Well, that was an interesting twist. "Uh, not as well as I can sing," he confessed, taking her hand and following her towards the dance floor. Kensi was turning out to be quite the enigma; one second she would seem interested, the next second annoyed. He was definitely attracted to her though, and really liked the feel of her hand in his. "I will try not to step on your toes, at least."

"Don't worry, I'll lead," she said as she dragged him along.

Marty snorted. "Oh, I'm sure you will."

They navigated through the crowd to an empty spot on the dance floor, facing each other awkwardly as Careless Whisper came to an end and they waited for the next tune to start. Her hand was still linked in his, surprisingly.

"Thank God that song is over," Kensi sighed, preparing for another slow song to start.

Just as Marty opened his mouth to comment on George Michael and how he wondered if people ever just called him by his last name, the intro to the next song interrupted him. Kensi's face lit up like a Christmas tree as she heard "Oh my God Becky, look at her butt, it's so big" boom across the room.

His jaw almost hit the floor, partly because of the song and mostly because Kensi was already dancing to it. "Really? Who the hell plays Baby Got Back at their wedding?"

"Awesome people!" she shouted, singing along as she danced. "My anaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hun."

"Alright," Marty said with a laugh, dancing ridiculously alongside her. "You are really weird, you know that?" Really weird, really hot, and really shaking her booty. He could probably learn to ignore the weird, cold exterior as long as she kept making him laugh like this. Then again, he had given her the impression that he wasn't interested in her, so this was probably how she acted around her bros. They could be bros, he guessed...until all of her booty shaking came closer and closer to grinding than shaking. Nope, definitely not bros. Not now, not ever.

She acted oblivious to the effect her dancing had on him. "Me, I'm weird? This coming from the guy with the Shaggy haircut and wearing a vest."

"I like my vest," he said, grinning. "And my hair."

Sir Mix-A-Lot was starting to wind down, so Kensi was as well. With one hand on her hip, she stuck out her tongue and tugged on his vest. "Well, somebody has to."

"Oooh, ouch," he feigned offense at her insult. "You say these things, but I don't think you mean them."

"You don't know anything about me, Marty." Bouncing again, this time to the beat of Pour Some Sugar On Me, Kensi's eyes were scary serious when she looked at him.

"Now this is a good song," he joked, but she was still staring at him and it was just a little unnerving. "Okay, fair enough. Technically I know nothing about you, but I would wager that I already know more than you think I do."

"Hmph," she snorted. "Just shut up and dance."

And dance they did, through Def Leppard to Lady Gaga. For someone who hated weddings, Kensi was having a hell of a good time and Marty was definitely not regretting his decision to stay just a few more minutes (that turned into hours). Before they knew it, the evening was coming to an end. When the DJ announced the final song and the opening bars began to play, they both burst into fits of laughter.

"Sexual Healing...wow, just wow."

"I don't think I can even find the words for this," she coughed, trying to control her laughter.

"Well, what do you say, dance partner..." Marty grabbed her hand and twirled her. He seriously couldn't believe that he did it successfully but was beyond proud of himself for doing so. "One more for the road?"

"One more couldn't hurt." Swinging a long, graceful arm over his shoulder, Kensi allowed him to pull her body flush to his. "I've put up with you for this long, after all."

Just like one more dance couldn't hurt, one more fake insult from that gorgeous woman couldn't hurt, either. Marty was pretty sure he had her figured out. Kensi was the kind of girl that would punch the boys on the playground that she had a crush on. Poking fun and pretending to be annoyed by him was her adult way of doing the same thing, and he was more than willing to be on the receiving end of her verbal blows.

Closing his eyes, he relished the feeling of her hands spreading across his back and breathed in her scent. It was nothing special, really; she just smelled earthy and real and it now had a special place in his memory bank under the file name Blye, K. He was starting to lose himself in the sway of her hips and the tickle of her hair on his chin, to the point where his guard was almost completely down.

Suddenly she froze against him, with one hand on his lower back and the other moving quickly to her thigh. Normally he was constantly on high alert, but apparently not that night. Marty should have known better than to slow dance with someone without giving a warning about the fact that he always carried a concealed service weapon. The adorably snarky version of Kensi was gone, replaced with a frighteningly serious woman that looked like she could kill him without batting an eyelash. "Who are you?" she asked in a low voice.

"Relax," he replied calmly. "I'm a cop."

"A cop," she repeated.

He nodded, running his hand from her back to her wrist. "Detective, actually." Glancing suspiciously at her leg, he trailed his fingers from her wrist to her fingertips, feeling the hard bulge under her dress. "I don't know many lumberjacks that hide their axes under their skirts."

Swallowing hard, she diverted her eyes away from his before resting her head against his chest. He relaxed and they began to dance again, despite the obvious tension now between them. "I should have mentioned the gun, sorry," he apologized into her hair. "But I didn't really anticipate that I'd be dancing with James Bond tonight."

Her chuckle vibrated against his chest, easing his discomfort. "Maybe I overreacted a bit."

"That's all you're going to tell me?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Wow, okay," he whistled. "Secret agent is starting to sound pretty plausible."

"I'm not saying anything else about it." As the final song came to an end, she pulled away and fidgeted with her dress. Much to his relief, scary Kensi was gone. But now that he realized that she was right before, that he really knew absolutely nothing about her, there was no way he'd ever be able to get her out of his mind. And now that there was no more music and the crowd was beginning to disperse, he had to figure out a way to find out more before she disappeared into the night like a super spy version of Cinderella.

"So, I've decided that maybe I was wrong," he said as they walked back to her table to retrieve her purse. "I probably don't know anything about you. But I'd kinda like to change that."

"Really?" She grinned devilishly, pulling her phone out of her purse. "Well, I was wrong, too. You-" she paused, groaning as she read her messages. "Damn. Sorry, but I have to go."

Wow, she really was Cinderella. "Are you going to turn into a pumpkin?"

"Haha." Kensi rolled her eyes, already started to head for the exit. "An emergency has come up. It's a long story." Stopping abruptly, she changed her course of direction back towards him and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek before rushing towards the exit again. "I had fun, Marty. Thanks."

"Are you serious, that's it?" he called after her. "Wait, at least tell me what you were wrong about!"

Marty could feel her smile setting his heart on fire from across the room as she yelled back to him. "You would have been successful!"

Then she was gone, and he was left utterly baffled. "Damn," he muttered. Running his hand through his hair, he walked towards the exit himself and tried to forget that the last few hours had ever happened. It figured that when he finally met somebody awesome that she'd disappear into the night, like a figment of his imagination. There wasn't even a sign of her car driving away as he walked through the parking lot.

As he rifled through his pants pocket for his keys, something sharp dug into his fingernail. A business card, no actually, a blank business card with nothing but a phone number had snuck it's way into his pants. He fingered the numbers on the card and leaned against his car in disbelief.

"I'll be damned," he whispered with a laugh. "Super spy Cinderella, indeed."


End file.
